With a roar of rage and surprise the bear let go his hold, slipped to the ground, and began to tear up the earth, sneezing violently.
"Oh, if I only had that gun," groaned Hughie, "I'd get him.

And if he gets away after Fido again, I believe I'll try it." The bear now set himself to plan some new form of attack.

He had been wounded, but only enough to enrage him, and his fury served to fix more firmly in his head the single purpose of getting into his grip this enemy of his in the tree, whom he appeared to have so nearly at his mercy.
Whatever his new plan might be, a necessary preliminary was getting rid of Fido, and this he proceeded to do.

Round about the trees he pursued him, getting farther and farther away from the birch, till Hughie, watching his chance, slipped down the tree and ran for his gun.

But no sooner had he stooped for it than the bear saw the move, and with an angry roar rushed for him.
Once more Hughie sprang for his branch, but the gun caught in the boughs and he slipped to the ground, the bear within striking distance.